Daeron and Friends
by dancingkatz
Summary: Short fics and vignettes about Daeron Greyvale and his friends Halmir, Val, Grethen and co. growing up and living their lives in Minas Tirith. Some are AU from my long WIP Through Daeron's Eyes.
1. A New Assignment

A New Assignment

"What are you looking so unhappy about?" Caerthan asked Daeron as he met the younger Guardsman at the entrance to the Sixth level barracks. "I would think you'd be over Isil for being assigned as Lord Boromir's esquire."

Daeron grimaced and gestured for Caerthan to precede him through the doorway. "I was, until I found out what one of my main duties is."

"Oh?" Caerthan set his glaive in the rack to the left of the door and removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm and gave Daeron an expectant look.

"The first job he gave me wasn't polishing his armor or cleaning his boots. It was preparing his dress uniform for evening court." Daeron told him as they made their way down the corridor towards the day room.

"What's so difficult about that? Other than about five pounds of extra silver bullion and embroidery, it's not that different from your own."

"Are you aware that Lord Boromir has two hounds? Specifically, two large, and shedding, brindle hounds? And do you know how badly shed dog hair shows up on black fabric? Especially if it's every possible colour a dog can be _except_ black?"


	2. First Sight

First Loss

Laedren paused in the doorway of his son's room and gazed compassionately at the nine-year old who stared disconsolately out the window, his face wet with tears.

"Daeron, you mother wants to know if you're going to come down to supper."

Daeron shook his head, sniffed, and scrubbed at his face with his tunic sleeve before turning his red-rimmed eyes towards his father. "I'm not hungry."

"You missed luncheon. You really need to eat something." It took only a moment to cross the room and join his son on the window seat. "It won't always hurt this much," he said as he gathered Daeron close. "I know you don't think so right now, but after a while, you'll be able to remember all the fun you and Cóllach had together and you'll be able to smile about it."

"I don't--"

"You don't what?" He asked after he realised that his son wasn't going to continue.

"I don't want to have another pet ever again."

Laedren sighed and stroked Daeron's messy black hair. "Daeron, did I ever tell you about the Valar's Garden?"

"No."

"It's actually more than a just a garden. It's a beautiful place where there are fields and trees, flowers and sparking brooks, the weather is always perfect under a blue sky. No one knows exactly where it is but you pass through it on your way to the gates that lead beyond the circles of Arda. That's where Cóllach is now. He's happy and has all his favourite toys to play with, and he won't be hungry or hurt ever again."

Laedren paused a moment and remembered his own Ada telling him the same thing a little over twenty years previously when his own dog, Halfaron, had died. He'd felt it was the end of the world when the brindle and white hound had been trampled to death by the estate's bull, and he knew that Daeron felt the same way about the accident that had befallen Cóllach this morning.

"Cóllach will be waiting there for you when it's finally time for you to leave this life and you'll go to whatever Eru has waiting on the other side of the gates together."

"So, he's not gone forever? And he doesn't hurt any more?" Daeron asked with another sniff.

"No, he's not gone forever and he's beyond all pain."

"That's good, but I miss him," Daeron choked out and he sobbed into his father's shoulder.

"I know." Laedren bent his head until his cheek lay against his distraught son's head and hugged him tightly. "I know."

Supper could wait.


	3. Foundling

Foundling

Daeron waved goodbye to Halmir and hurried towards home. He'd had a lot of fun with his best friend this afternoon but it was getting on towards supper time and he he was hungry.

Unfortunately, the road was blocked by a wain with a broken axle and between it's bulk, the number of men moving it's contents to another wagon and the curious bystanders there was no way for him to get by. Huffing with frustration, he went back up the street and ducked down an alley. He wasn't supposed to go through the alleys and mews but if he waited for the roadblock to be removed he'd probably miss breakfast as well as supper.

He was passing behind the Chancellor's residence whe nhe heard a cry coming from a pile of rubbish near the gate to the back garden. Despite his trepidation (the last time he'd been near the chancellor's house the man had threatened him with a thrashing if he was found loitering about again) he had to stop and see what was making the pitiful sound.

He found that the sound had come from a sack that had been thrown aop the pile of kitchen rubbish. Disregarding the mess he was making of his clothes and boots he scrambled up and retrieved the bag. Taking his find some distance away he set it carefully down and struggled to untie the cords that held it closed.

The cries from whatever was inside the bag were growing weaker and he worried that he wouldn't be able to free it before it was too late. He wished that his Adar would let him carry a belt knife. If he had one she could have just cut the cords or the side of the bag. He finally managed to get the last knot undoen and pulled the top of the sack wide.

A small ginger coloured kitten with brilliant blue eyes raised its head from where it lay atop its still and silent siblings and cried again.

"Oh." Daeron reached in and scooped up the kitten. "You poor thing. Holding it close he bit his lip and reluctantly left the bag by the side of the alley, not able to carry it and the kitten and make any speed towards home. "I'll come back later, I promise. But you need something to eat first."

As soon as it had eaten a dish of milk and finely minced fish the ginger kitten had fallen asleep on Daeron's lap, curling up with a paw held over it's eyes, just like Collach had done. Daeron sat on his bed watching the ball of fluff sleep and tracing the marbled pattern of orange and white that covered the kitten's back with a gentle finger.

"Daeron?" His father, Laedren, was standing in the doorway. "Ullien said that you found a kitten and brought it home."

Daeron explained how he'd found the kitten with its dead siblings behind the Chancellor's house and that he couldn't leave it there to die. "Please, can I keep him?"


	4. Invitation

Invitation

Daeron stared at the contents of the envelope in consternation then looked up at his mother with a panicked expression. Surely, she'd know what to do about this untenable situation. He'd been good at his studies as a boy and had graduated with the highest honours from the military academy, and had even begun to make a name for himself as a junior officer who was smart enough to know that he didn't know something among the senior sergeants but he'd never faced anything like this before.

"Is there something wrong, Daeron?" Meriel asked, having set aside her own correspondence.

Numbly, Daeron handed her the note. Within a few moments a gleam lit his mother's eye and he stifled a groan. The last time he'd seen that particular expression on her face he'd had to suffer through a crash course in court etiquette.

"I told your father he should have let me get you dancing lessons when you were ten years old. Now, how much free time do you have between now and the end of the week?"


	5. Adjudication

Adjudication

'There was _always_ more to the story' Halmir reminded himself as he ruminated on the testimony he'd heard earlier that afternoon. His former teacher and now mentor, Jurist Giselher, had frequently reminded his students of that.

"When you first hear something, don't take it at face value. Consider human nature, the things that cause people to act the way they do, who benefits and who doesn't. Find the details." He could still hear the man's warm baritone voice as he'd given Halmir back the neatly written pages of argument, telling him to try again.

Halmir turned his attention from his memories to his current case and frowned. Finally, after about a half an hour of thought, he wrote a note and sent it off with a servant, instructing him to wait for a reply and return as quickly as possible.

It didn't take long to get an answer and he couldn't help smiling as he read the response. Taking just long enough to put an appropriately solemn expression on his face, he left the study.

A few minutes later he opened the door to his 11-year old son's room.

"Berenlir, why didn't you tell me you were fighting to defend the honour of a lady?"

Berenlir looked at his father with an expression of disbelief that was easily readable even through the bruises and black eye he sported. "A _lady_? Firiel's not a lady, she's just a girl!"

Of, course, Halmir thought as he fought to keep his expression appropriately stern, Giselher never had explained to him how to determine an appropriate punishment when trying not to laugh hysterically.


End file.
